There are circumstances that swallow up my leisure, for which you would pity me. Amongst that number is the being presented from their authors, with most of the fustian and vapid compositions in rhyme, which disgrace our press, from the nauseous writings of puffing Pratt, through the ranks of his kindred spirits. When these musifying hashes are set before us, there is no helping nibbling; the very sight of them makes us hungry with absurdity, though sure that the stuff will make us extremely sick.